


Horio's First Year of School Festival Experience

by mercurysensei



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 23:19:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9146455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercurysensei/pseuds/mercurysensei
Summary: Horio has his first junior high school festival experience. And it's nothing like it was in elementary school, not with the tennis team around.Written for the xmasouji exchange :)





	

Before his alarm clock began to play the Pokemon theme song, Horio was up and stretching. He extended an arm down along one leg of his froggy pajamas, then alternated. He had to be in tip-top shape. The day of the school festival had finally arrived. Though he could boast a good six years of school festival experience, his first performance at the junior high level would open many new doors. This could be the day his talent was recognized! He was, after all, given a special job.

At first, Horio had considered the sheer number of girls in his class a significant disadvantage. The ladies had completely ignored his suggestion for a cute maid café and voted unanimously for butler service. They had intended to sacrifice the boys in the class, but to the charismatic Horio, such sacrifices were merely opportunities. The girls definitely noticed his confidence. Horio knew that he looked good in a suit, his mother had told him so, but he didn’t expect such recognition right off of the bat. Being surrounded by girls was a good thing after all. He was even appreciated to the extent that his efforts were needed not in the café, but to wander the school and advertise.

So it was that Horio put on the suit from his cousin’s wedding and gamboled downstairs. His mother fixed his tie and he was off to school early. He had to be, for his special job involved being there early enough to greet students and guests with the friendly Butler Café sign.

Head held high, Horio embarked on his usual path to school. Even the old woman that he greeted every morning noticed his attire and offered a free mikan to help keep his energy up.

Horio bowed theatrically and promised not to disappoint, if she got the time to drop by the school festival.

After several other such encounters, Horio practically floated toward Seigaku. The sidewalks surrounding the school were decorated in balloons of white and blue. He had to walk around the second year art class’ chalk designs, which offered a description of events and some very cute flowers. He found a clumsy one near the outside with Arai-senpai’s name attached.

“Hehe, wait until the guys see this,” he snickered and used his phone to capture the image. After taking that picture, he kept his camera setting on as he turned to the school. It would be nice to get some pictures of the Seigaku covered in decorations.

Horio looked through his phone and saw something that froze him to the core. If he had met Buchou’s stare with his bare eyes, he might have dropped dead instead of standing there, dumbfounded by the sight.

Why on earth was Buchou wearing a shark kigurumi? And just _how_ did that stare penetrate the crowd of students to lock onto him with such devastating force.

The picture was blurry. It would take someone of Fuji-senpai’s level to capture the rare sight.

Though Horio feared for his hit points and stamina, he manned up to fulfill his duty to the class. When Tezuka bowed formally and greeted the newcomers, Horio bowed even lower with his sign.

As he came up from a bow, he took a peek at Tezuka’s sign. He had been too distracted before to take notice of his captain’s advertisement of…an interactive aquarium photo set in class 3-1.

“Tezuka-buchou,” Horio asked between waves of visitors. “What is an interactive aquarium?”

Tezuka turned to regard him. Unbidden, the Jaws theme song started up between Horio’s ears. Tezuka stared long enough to make Horio think that he really would lean in and bite his head off. Instead, he said, “Please visit the class and see for yourself. Oishi and Kikumaru will be glad to see ichinen attending the display.”

“I-I see…” Horio glowed. A personal invitation from the captain! “Thank you.”

“Aa.”

The captain said no more, but Horio brimmed with confidence. Just a beat behind Tezuka’s voice, his own morning greeting rang out in distinctive nasal tones. Horio stayed until the crowd trickled into the food and craft stands in front of the school. Though Tezuka was famous enough to simply stay in one place, it would take more to get people to an ichinen exhibit. Spirit full of vigor from being at his captain’s side, Horio bowed and pressed onward.

“Ikemen butler café!” he advertised, holding out his sign left and right. “Please come and visit class 1-3 for the most handsome service!” Imagining himself a male siren, Horio called to the attendees over and over. If he could gather his efforts, they would get a lot of visitors.

He wasn’t the only one beckoning to their guests. Among the din, Horio heard Tomoka’s familiar voice calling, “Hotcakes! _Very good America hotcakes!_!”

Wow, Horio stopped in amazement. Tomo’s English was so good! He gravitated to the sound, eager to sate his curiosity and appetite. At the sight of the stand, he stuttered in laughter. Echizen was standing there behind Tomo, dressed up in a pink apron and kerchief. Kachirou passed him pancakes one by one, and he decorated them with a unique English word written in jelly and whipped cream.

The look Echizen gave him was almost as severe as Tezuka’s, but he had built up some immunity to those golden eyes. Ignoring him, Horio squinted. He recognized some of them: _tennis_ , _racket_ , _ball_ , _can_ , _pencil_ , _Karupin_ , _court_.

“Oh, you wrote _love_! How cute, Ryoma-kun!” Tomo turned around to see what Echizen was writing on the next one.

“In tennis, love means--”

“Oi, Echizen!” Horio came in like a hero, interrupting him before he could spoil Tomoka’s idealism. It was important to behave like a gentleman. “What does that one mean?”

He pointed to a pancake that read _d-i-c-k._

“Oh, I’d like to try. I’ve been practicing English,” Sakuno said, dressed up in a cat costume because of her class’ neko bakery. Horio thought she looked very cute. He would have to drag Echizen to the display later. Her nose scrunched as she looked at the difficult vocabulary. “Let’s see… _d-i-c-k_ …maybe it is pronounced like…”

It happened in slow motion. Sakuno brought her teeth together to try the word and, in the same split second, Echizen opened up Horio’s mouth by the chin and shoved the entire vulgar pancake inside. While Horio gagged on the mouthful, whipped cream dribbling from the side of his lip, Echizen pushed the _love_ pancake into Sakuno’s hands.

“Ryoma-kun…” she blushed prettily. Echizen stared blankly.

Horio threw up in a shrub behind the stand.

“You all right?” Tomoka asked, returning Horio’s sign when color returned to his cheeks.

“Of course!” It was a minor setback to what would be a glorious day. American hotcakes wouldn’t keep Horio from experiencing the school festival to the fullest! “I have to advertise around inside the school, too.”

“In that case, I promised Fuji-senpai that I would check out his art display,” Tomoka said. She opened her phone to see if any of the other ichinen would be available. “Want to come with? You can advertise around the third year halls.”

Puffing out his chest, Horio said importantly, “Definitely. Tezuka-buchou also invited me to check out his class display. You can tag along.”

“I wouldn’t miss that!” the whether or not Horio had invited her was implied. They chatted idly, both stopping to advertise their classes to interested students, as Tomoka led the way through the crowded quad toward the third year building. 

A violent shriek from the second year building stopped them short. Instinctively, Horio screamed too. He dropped his sign, but picked it up well within five seconds; no one saw it happen.

When she recovered from the surprise, Tomo laughed. “Momo-senpai said that his class was building a haunted house.”

“Ehh…” Horio scratched his head with the sign. “I don’t think I could be afraid of Momo-senpai.”

“Kaidou-senpai will be in it too,” Tomo pointed out, visibly taking her amusement from Horio’s attempted bravery. His ankles quaked and she grinned. “Don’t tell me that you’re too scared to support your future captain.”

Trapped. He was definitely trapped. “Of course I’m going to go. I’ve been to a hundred haunted houses. You can definitely rely on me to protect you.”

Tomo crossed her arms and said loudly, “No thanks – I’ll get Ryoma-sama to take us through. But he’s on duty for another hour, so let’s visit Fuji-senpai first.”

Horio didn’t have the opportunity to defend his honor. Tomo grabbed him by the back of his suit jacket. Just like a puppy on a short leash, he was brought before his most terrifying senpai.

And said senpai’s art display: a three foot clay figure of his doubles partner, completely naked.

“It’s very….realistic,” Tomo offered optimistically to the pleased Fuji and furiously embarrassed Taka.

Unable to express himself in words, Horio looked up at Fuji, who smiled benevolently and said, “It’s not an exaggeration.”

As a man, Horio was more than a little jealous of Taka-senpai’s physique. “W-what was the topic?” Horio asked.

Taka looked more dismayed than ever. He gestured to the large, glimmering sign obscuring the windows that read: Future Aspirations.

That explained the pretty, painted clay pieces of sushi beside the lewdly detailed sculpture. Though the sushi weren’t as artistically impressive as Fuji’s _Tennis David_ , people gathered intently around the pure design to avoid looking too directly at the intimidating piece. Only the reporter, Shiba, openly took photos of Fuji’s piece.

“Taka-san, you’re so talented,” Fuji smiled. “In art too, everyone wants to enjoy your sushi.”

Horio didn’t think it was possible, but Kawamura flushed more deeply. Tomo elbowed him in the side and he choked on his own nauseous expression. In a hushed whisper, she said, “Don’t make disgusting faces during senpai’s private moments.”

How could the moment be private? At least a fifty people were gathered in the room. Before he could recover enough to vocalize that defense, he was dragged from the room as quickly as he had been brought into it.

“Honestly, you can’t even be polite,” Tomo sighed. “You should be forced to go into that haunted house alone.”

The very idea of being alone in a haunted house with Kaidou-senpai brought out the strong urge to use the toilet. He tried to break away from Tomoka, but she was surprisingly strong, even as she texted Echizen to meet them in the haunted house. Horio peered over Tomo’s shoulder at the message. Though it showed a read receipt, no response came from the sullen freshman. They received positive responses from Kachirou and Katsuo.

_At least those two are dependable. You’re so cheap, Echizen,_ Horio thought mournfully about his fate in the haunted house. “Ha…ha…we still have Buchou’s invitation to take while we…wait for Echizen.”

Thankfully, Tomo agreed with that idea. Horio could save his hit points for now. “Class 3-1 is just down there. I borrowed some cleaning supplies from Oishi-senpai, once.”

Blue cellophane and bright fish-cutouts decorated the windows as they went down the hall. Horio peered through them into the courtyard – the commotion below resembled a fishtank scene, with people busily moving in and out of stalls and buildings. So this was what third years could produce, after two years of festival experience.

“Welcome,” Oishi stood at the door, organizing the visitors into a line. The vice-captain wore a blue fish costume decorated in painted, cardboard scales. When Oishi noticed Horio and Tomo, he greeted them with a smile. “Horio-kun, Osakada-san, thank you for coming to visit the display.”

“We wouldn’t miss it!” Tomo gave Oishi a thumb’s up.

“I ran into Tezuka-buchou this morning and he said that I should go check it out,” Horio bragged, puffing out his chest.

“Ah, so he’s advertising properly then,” Oishi looked relieved. “I felt bad sending him out like that, but it was the only way that we could convince Ryuuzaki-sensei that she needed to stay here instead of…advertise.”

The room did indeed resemble an aquarium; all four walls had been covered in paper and illustrated in truly fascinating detail. Cameras and props had been set up to allow for pictures in different scenes with the characters. Among the magic of the third year display, unfortunately, his eyes stuck on the one unpleasant thing in the room.

“Oh, did you come to take a picture with me, too?” Ryuuzaki asked, fanning her features with a paper shell. She was sprawled over three desks with a majestic ocean castle painted onto the wall behind her. Some sharks would have been more appropriate. “Really, I’m more popular than even I expected.”

Oishi’s smile quivered, but didn’t break. He had more strength than Horio, under the assault of Ryuuzaki-sensei dressed as a mermaid. But the true hero of undying fortitude was Kikumaru the catfish, who bounced right on up to Horio and said, “Sorry, sensei. I asked our cute freshmen to come and take a picture with me.”

The whiskered acrobat winked at Horio, who felt his heart melt.

“I don’t see why we can’t all take a picture together. Naa, Sumire-chan?” Fuji peeked into the room. 

They were unable to escape fate. The puddle in Horio’s chest froze over. Hope was lost. As the golden fish pair flanked him, Fuji and Tomo kneeled together in front. At his back, Ryuuzaki-sensei’s chest wiggled against its seashell confines.

“Say chi-zu!” the third year cameraman counted down with his fingers. The apocalypse didn’t come on three, but Kikumaru did usher Horio and Tomo over to the computer to decorate the photo. Minus the trauma, they looked really cool with the blue filter and coral reef mural. Even if Kikumaru put cat ears on all of them, he would treasure the picture with his senpai and the date of the cultural festival.

“You’re looking very smart, Horio-kun,” Oishi said politely. “What’s your class doing?”

“A Butler Café,” Horio held up the sign with pride. “Katsuo is participating, but everyone wanted _me_ to advertise.”

“I see, I’ll have to visit, then,” Oishi said. Fuku-buchou was such a good guy. “Good work, Horio-kun. I’m sure they have many visitors from your sign.”

Horio just about burst in pride. Kikumaru ruffled his hair and teased, “I heard that you couldn’t take ochibi’s homemade pancakes of love.”

Before Horio could gag and correct any misconceptions about Echizen’s love, Tomo interrupted, “We learned lots of new English words from Ryoma-sama. Horio-kun just had a hard time digesting the new vocabulary.”

“Work harder in your studies, Horio-kun,” Ryuuzaki-sensei loomed and Horio feared for his lunch yet again. “Or else you won’t qualify for the tennis team.”

“But Echizen is barely passing Japanese--” Horio tried to say in his defense. Tomo grabbed him with the strength of one thousand Taka-san’s and they flew from the room.

“OH LOOK AT THE TIME, we’ve got to go!” she said, walking so fast that Horio could barely keep up with her footsteps. Once they were out of hearing range, she yelled at him, “Do you _want_ Ryoma-sama to get put on probation?”

“Relax. They’re not going to put him on probation. Besides, if his tennis were put in danger, Echizen would even teach himself classical Japanese.”

Besotted, Tomoka sighed. It was gross. She hadn’t even sighed at him when he showed up to school in this nice suit.

As they returned to the second year building, the screams grew louder once more. Though he couldn’t gather any information by peering at the dimmed windows from the courtyard, the spooky atmosphere suffocated Horio the moment they entered. Tomo hesitated a bit; her grip took on a new kind of strength.

Horio almost wished that he had died via Ryuuzaki-sensei’s bosom ten minutes ago. That might have been a better fate.

“Are you guys going to enter?” a second-year vampire smiled. Horio recognized her from the girls’ tennis club.

“We’ll wait for just a bit longer,” Tomo said. Horio closed his eyes, praying for Echizen to come and save him. Or Kachirou. Katsuo. Anyone.

“Horio-kun!”

It was Katsuo. There was a god. Kachirou joined a few minutes later.

“I wanted to wait for Ryoma-sama, but I think he must be held up at the stand,” Tomo frowned at her message.

“I guess we can’t go in,” Horio said, trying his best to sound disappointed.

“Really?” Tomo continued with a scary smile. Had she been taking lessons from Fuji? “This from the guy who entered a hundred haunted houses and promised to protect me.”

Horio started sweat and didn’t notice his friends shaking their heads.

“Let’s just go in, Horio-kun. Momo-senpai came by the Butler display, so we should really see what his class put together,” Katsuo said reasonably, though he looked a little nervous.

Some friends. They shoved Horio in front of them and entered the line.

The beautiful vampire chuckled and patted Horio on the head. “Ganbatte, ichinen-kun.”

Just like that, Horio felt himself imbued with a new source of light. Such was the power of an older woman. If she really were a vampire, she could feel free to sparkle at him for all eternity.

The haunted house didn’t seem special at first glance. They entered through a gray, ragged sheet to a narrow passage. The second years had used cardboard and cloth to construct something like a maze within their classroom. Horio’s appreciation for the construction flickered with the failing light.

Horio heard heavy footfalls, like his dad stomping around in winter boots. But his father never cast those kind of creepy shadows. The light dimmed and bent, honing in on a single, bloody footprint on the floor.

“We’re going to die,” Horio croaked, backing up into Katsuo, Kachirou, and Tomo.

“Should we turn back?” Katsuo asked.

“We can’t,” Horio shook his head emphatically. The girls’ tennis vice-vampire had told him to do his best. “We absolutely can’t.”

Despite the eerie music and clumps of hair along the bloody footprints, Tomo pushed to the head of the group to lead the charge. “Of course not, what would Ryoma-sama say,” Tomo said bravely. 

Kachirou exchanged a look with Katsuo and murmured, “Probably _mada mada dane._ ”

The new leadership hadn’t lasted long. Tomoka cried when one of her pigtails had swept up a fake spiderweb. Her flailing triggered the next event: a light shining down on a dying message from the ghost student of Seigaku.

Their wails joined the ranks of all those who came before. 

With the screams to disguise his voice, a bloody Momo turned to a skeleton Kaidou and grinned, “Oi, it’s our ichinen. Let’s give them a real scare.”

“Idiot,” Kaidou hissed back. “Just do what we’ve been doing.”

“No, no, this will be way better, yes it will,” Momo laughed, rubbing his hands together.

Kaidou couldn’t hold back his annoyance, “Fshhhh.”

Of the conversation, Horio only heard the lingering notes of Kaidou’s hiss rippling through the sheets. “Snakes,” his knees quaked. Clinging to the sleeve of Katsuo’s suit, he said, “Why did it have to be snakes?”

“Enough with the fshhh, Mamushi, we’re a haunted house, not Raiders of the Lost Arc!”

“FSshhh!”

Fortunately, the first years couldn’t quite hear their upperclassman conspiring on the other side of the room. Kachirou shivered, “It sounds like someone’s whispering…we’re not alone.”

A hand dropped down from the ceiling, startling the group.

Katsuo clutched his chest and recovered, “Well obviously, Momo-senpai and Kaidou-senpai are in here with their classmates…”

“ _If they’re still alive_ ,” a spooky voice said. “Bwa ha ha ha ha!”

In the darkness, the cardboard in front of them crumpled. A flickering, yellow light illuminated Momoshiro’s corpse, covered in blood and sprawled lifelessly on the floor. Horio wondered who would text him now to let him know when everyone was hanging out and correct his form without telling anyone that he had been doing it wrong.

Horio screamed, as did Katsuo, Kachirou, and Tomoka. When another furious wail joined the chorus, the four first years turned to each other and howled again in horror at the mysterious shadow behind the sheet. It had eaten Momo-senpai, and now it was coming for them!

Then, inexplicably, Momoshiro returned from the dead to yell at the moving sheet. “MAMUSHI! You’re not supposed to be screaming here!”

“I didn’t scream!” Kaidou growled, tearing down the curtain to glare at Momo. Somehow, Horio was closer to wetting himself than he was with the appearance of Momo’s dead body. 

Getting in his face, the definitely not dead Momoshiro stomped on the fallen sheet and gestured wildly. “You literally just screamed!”

“I didn’t! T-that wasn’t what you did the last twenty times!”

“What, and now I’m not allowed to show a little originality?!” Momo shoved at the Kaidou skeleton’s ribs.

Furious, Kaidou raised his voice, “NOT WHEN YOU’RE LEAVING ME ALONE IN HERE!”

“Oh so that’s how it is – because you’re going to be the captain you’re the one who wanted to scare the first years and leave none for me!”

“THAT’S NOT EVEN TRUE!” Kaidou growled, hands gathering into fists.

The wheels turned in Horio’s head. Before Tomoka, or some other magic filter could stop him, he said, “Kaidou-senpai, were you scared?”

Kaidou, fists of death and all, turned on ferociously Horio, who did maybe wet himself just a little. “I wasn’t _scared_ , I was giving him back up.”

“Back up. With your girly scream?” Momo said, bravely drawing Kaidou’s attention like a champion bullfighter. That grisly death of his might have just been foreshadowing. At least this way Horio had the time to reflect on a nice eulogy.

“MY SCREAM IS NOT GIRLY!” Kaidou surged forward and fisted Momo’s shirt. Just as eager to fight, Momo reached for the matching skeleton patterned bandana.

“…Guys…Maybe we should go,” Katsuo suggested, giving the brawling doubles pair a wide berth as their fight expanded, drawing the rest of the haunted house into the destruction.

Katsuo didn’t need to say it again. The four first years slipped out of the haunted house and took a breather in an adjacent hallway. After a few minutes of hushed panting and letting time catch up with them, Tomoka, incredibly, started to laugh.

Kachirou and Katsuo followed. Before he knew it, Horio was laughing too. He laughed with his friends until his smile just about split his face in two. Though he opened his mouth to speak, it was hard to put his bubble of happiness into words.

“I’m looking forward to next year,” he said finally.

His friends smiled in agreement.

“Awww, isn’t that sweet.”

Horio’s spine straightened at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. He only knew the Sumida by the rumors, all of which suggested that he was someone to stay away from. A long legged girl with bleached hair giggled and leaned into Sumida’s shoulder.

“Oh my god,” she said. “The one in the suit with the unibrow. He’s so _ugly_.”

Though he didn’t feel that he had anything to apologize for, his gaze went magnetically to the ground in shame. He was too embarrassed to even look her way, let alone defend himself.

But he didn’t have to. Tomoka stood in front of him, obscuring any view with her fat pigtails. “Don’t you talk to him like that!”

“Oh, is that your boyfriend,” she drawled, bringing out a rough razor from her pocket. “Don’t you worry, girlie. I’ll shave those brows and pretty him up for you now. Free service.”

Not backing down, Tomoka said, “Why do you even carry a razor with you? Are you really that hairy, jerk?”

Her eyes went wide at the insult. “You, BITCH!”

Horio saw the girl’s arm swing wide to slap Tomoka and it stirred him into action. Even if they were friends, especially if they were friends, he could never let any woman take a blow for him. He had just about enough experience being protected without doing anything.

He pushed Tomoka aside and held out a hand to mitigate the oncoming smack.

It never came. His hand impacted something round.

Without realizing that he had closed them, Horio squinted his eyes open and saw for himself what had everyone silent. Just to make sure his eyes weren’t fooling him, he squeezed the boob in his grip. An incomprehensible squeak escaped from his lips.

“How dare you!” she snarled, leaping back from him. She crossed her arms over her chest and Sumida took over, lunging at Horio and capturing him in like a hostage.

Sumida smelled like cigarettes and Horio’s suit felt three sizes too tight. He fought but it was useless. His friends yelled at Sumida to let him go, to forgive him for the mistake, but at this rate, Horio wondered if he deserved to have his eyebrows shaved off. Then he really would be ugly and even his mother wouldn’t be able to call him handsome with a straight face. He would have to drop out of school to become some kind of hairless monk. And he had been so happy too, attending Seigaku and playing with the tennis team.

This was how it all would end. Though he knew it, he struggled all the same. Because a Seigaku tennis player fought to the very end, he closed his eyes and flailed. And then continued to flail because neither razor nor fist happened to his face, so he must be doing something right.

Until his hand encountered something round. Could he die twice? 

When Horio opened his eyes this time, he saw that his hand had fallen on one of Kaidou’s firm pectorals. And squeezed (purely instinct).

“Kaidou-senpai,” he croaked.

Kaidou flushed, presumably with fury. “Let. Him. Go.” The heroic words were spoken with the deep voice and violent rage of a Disney villain. It really was Kaidou. Now that he had a chance of life, Horio noticed that Tomoka, Katsuo, and Kachirou had retreated behind Momoshiro.

“He groped my girlfriend!” Sumida said, definitely not as scared as he should be.

“By accident!”

“She was going to hurt him!”

“I was just giving him a little makeover,” Sumida’s girlfriend approached Momo, attempting to diffuse the situation that was no longer in their favor.

Momo regarded her coolly. “I don’t see anyone on our team that needs a makeover. Do you, Mamushi?”

Kaidou took two steps forward. Sumida dropped Horio and back-pedaled away from the dangerous contender. It wasn’t fast enough. Kaidou fisted the bully’s shirt and pulled him up off of his feet. “No, I don’t,” he said slowly.

“Here at Seigaku, we’re all handsome as fuck!” Momo said, crossing his arms to loom over the girl. “So take your makeovers to a school who needs them. Like Hyoutei.”

Dropping Sumida to let him run off with his girlfriend, Kaidou narrowed his eyes at Momo and said, “Don’t push it.”

“Shitenhouji?”

Kaidou coughed. Momo interpreted that as agreement and slung an arm about the grumpy man’s shoulders. Two beats later, Kaidou removed it and gave Momo a shove for good measure.

“Horio-kun!” Katsuo and Kachirou were quickly at his side. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…somehow,” Horio rubbed at his hair. His suit was now filthy. He was alive, but somehow, he still felt like he wanted to cry.

Tomoka took Horio by the hair and forced him to look her in the eye. “Hey, you were really brave,” she said, with a kind face that brooked no argument.

Horio took a deep and difficult breath. “I feel like I was rescued, again.”

“Obviously,” Echizen said, strolling into their moment. Horio wanted to say that the pink apron diminished his entrance, but really, it didn’t. “Next year, you’ll have two years of experience.”

“…” Horio blinked.

“Echizen! That’s terrible! Isn’t that just another way of saying _mada mada dane_?” Momo pushed Echizen’s kerchief down over his eyes.

“You really can’t think of anything better to say to Horio-kun!” Katsuo said.

“Ryoma-sama!” Tomoka attempted to pull Momo away from bullying Echizen, but only managed to step on Kaidou’s foot.

“Fshhh….”

It came quietly, without warning or intention. Horio smiled, watching the friends that cared about him. “Hey Echizen! Let me show you how a real man knots an apron,” he pulled himself to his feet and joined in. After all, he had a good amount of experience with aprons. Or he had watched an anime with a maid, once or twice. It was basically the same thing.

~~~

As he put in for a Ponta from the vending machine, Echizen said, “You weren’t going to help, senpai?”

Inui stepped out from a quiet corner, without bothering to ask Echizen how he had known. “It wasn’t necessary. Were you?”

Echizen had come to the same conclusion, so he didn’t bother to answer. The Ponta can came down the chute and into Echizen’s waiting hand.

“I was gathering data,” Inui said.

Echizen drank his Ponta and looked at the data player as if to say, _and_.

Inui simply pushed up his glasses and added, “Seigaku will do well next year.”

Satisfied with that explanation, Echizen turned. As he walked away, the bow on his newly tied apron rippling with the wind, he said, “We won’t let our guard down.”


End file.
